


Say It

by ivy_baskin, LB714



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Makeup Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivy_baskin/pseuds/ivy_baskin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB714/pseuds/LB714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealousy over an ex encountered at a party leads to an argument, heated words, and very fierce, hot makeup sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It

 

I stand in the doorway, looking at him lying on the floor, blocking the world out with those huge headphones. He's angry about something, and he won't tell me what. Not even sure if I've done something, or I'm just a minor annoyance after the fact.

"Hello?" I mime taking off headphones, hoping he'll get the hint. "Can't we talk? What's going on?"  
  
 _I hesitate. Do I really want to get into this now? Can't she just leave me alone to stew in it for a while? I lift the left headphone and say, "What?" not bothering to hide my annoyance at this disturbance._  
  
From his expression, it's impossible to miss that he is, in fact, royally pissed off at me. And this makes me all the more determined not to let it go. "I want to know why you're being such a rude git, that's bloody what." I do, too—want to know. It's not like him, to act this way.  
  
 _She wants to play games, does she? Fine. I'll play. "I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about."_  
  
"The hell you don't." No way is he getting away with that line. I walk over and drop down, cross-legged, on the floor beside him. "What is the matter? Have I done something? I want to know, if I have."  
  
 _ **Sure, play dumb. You know exactly what you did.** But I don't say that. I don't want to give her the satisfaction. I replace the headphones and try to ignore the fact that she's sitting just a little too close. "You know what you did," I state flatly._  
  
I have no idea what he's talking about. We've just come back from a party and I **_thought_** we'd had a good time. Even had a bit of a snog and grope session when he lured me into his mate's bedroom under false pretenses. I reluctantly called a halt to that, as I was afraid we'd be discovered if we went missing much longer. But it did leave us a little . . . twitchy, and looking forward to getting back to his place. And now we're here, and he's angry, and doesn't want to have anything to do with me.

"You're going to have to spell it out, I'm afraid," I say stubbornly. "'Cause I don't have a clue what YOU'RE talking about." I move a little closer to him, just to irritate him—because he's bloody well irritating me.  
  
 _She's not going to leave me alone, I can see that now. So I pull off the headphones and toss them across the room. But I don't move from where I'm lying. I don't know why. I should get up. I should get up and leave, but I remember that this is my house and she intruded on me. I'll have to have a word with my mum about that later. Right now, I have to deal with this, like it or not._

_"That's just like you, isn't it," I spit. "No idea what you do half the time." It's mean and I know it, but I can't help it. What she did **hurt**._  
  
My mouth hangs open in shock; he's never talked to me that way, ever. It feels, almost, as if he's slapped me. Shaking my head, trying not to let him see how much he's hurt me, I think back over the evening, trying to remember what I could possibly have—

And then it hits me, like a brick. Halfway through the evening, a bunch of people had crashed the party. Including an old flame of mine. After I'd got over the shock of seeing him, we'd actually had a decent conversation, catching up on what was new, telling each other about the new people in our lives, laughing over remembered disasters in our relationship now that we had some perspective . . .

"It's Geoff, isn't it?" I ask, trying to keep the anger out of **_MY_** voice now.  
  
 _"Is that the git's name?" So NOW she remembers._  
  
How could I not have seen it? Because the idea is absurd to me, that's why. He has no reason on earth to be jealous, and he should know that. "I thought we trusted each other. I thought . . ." I stop, suddenly not willing to expose my feelings to his anger.  
  
 _"What? What did you think? That I would say it's all right if you want to go off and snog your ex-boyfriend? Sorry to disappoint you."_  
  
"You think I wanted to snog Geoff? After we"—I point first at myself and then at him—"had just . . ." I'm stunned, at a loss for words. "You're absolutely mental!"  
  
 _I get up on my elbows now. "I'M mental? I wasn't the one off flirting with some prat in front of YOU!"_  
  
"Flirting?" I can't believe he's accusing me of this. "I was _talking_ to him—he's just a friend now! Can't you tell the difference between talking and flirting, you. . . ." I am so furious with him right now, I'm not sure I trust myself to speak. "You are not being fair!"  
  
 _"Fair? You want to talk fair? I invite you to a party and you go off talking to your ex!" She doesn't realize how much it hurt me to see her with someone else. I know I'm being a jealous git, but I can't help it._  
  
"So I'm not allowed to talk to anyone now. Didn't realise that had become a rule!" I get up on my knees, fists clenched; he's not the only one who's hurt and angry. "I don't feel that way about him, you **_KNOW_** that! Or you should." Another minute, and I know I'll be crying, which makes me even angrier. I want to hurt him, or break something, just to get rid of these feelings. "Why are you being such a bastard?"  
  
 _"Because I don't like to see you talking to him, that's why!" Seeing her angry like this makes me even angrier, but it's also, and I am loath to admit this, a turn-on. I flop back down on the floor and face away, because I want to stay angry just a little longer._  
  
"Don't you **DARE** turn your back on me!" I'm enraged, and part of me says, _**Don't put up with this, just leave!**_ But I can't. I grab his shoulder and try to pull him back, try to make him face me. "Don't treat me this way! You can trust me; you know I . . . I—" But I still can't give him the satisfaction of telling him I love him, not when he's acting like this. And I start to pummel his chest with my fists, so frustrated that I can't stop myself.  
  
 _Now she's pushed too far. I grab her wrists and hold them above me; then I sit up. I'm so angry my face is hot and I start to speak but instead I pull her in and kiss her, hard._  
  
" _ **Mmmph!**_ " No, I will **_NOT_** let him do this! He has to admit that he's wrong. I struggle against him, trying to get away, but . . . my body betrays me. Suddenly all I know is how good it feels when he kisses me, and before I can think, I bite his lip, push him back to the floor, give him back some of his own. . . .  
  
 _As I fall back, I can tell she's still angry, but that just makes me want her more. "Say it," I command._  
  
Panting, I push myself up off him so I can look into his face. "Say what?" Before he can answer, I swoop down and kiss him again, first grinding my lips into his and then dragging my tongue across his mouth, demanding he let me in deeper.  
  
 _I want to open my mouth—I want to thrust my tongue into hers—but I want her to say it first. I push her away, just enough so I can see her face. "Tell me you want me."_  
  
I thought I'd been angry before. Now, I'm livid. "The hell I will, you arrogant tosser!" He holds me off, I know he wants to make me say it so he'll feel he's won, but I push back just as hard, bend my head to kiss his throat, dig my fingers into his shoulders to hold him down . . . anything but look at him. Because he's right. I **_do_** want him, and I'll be damned if I let him see that in my eyes.  
  
 _Oh, that feels good. So good. I want to let her win. To surrender. But I don't. She wants to play? Fine, I'll play. I push so that I'm rolling us over, so that I end up on top. Now I'm pinning her to the floor. "Say it."_  
  
Why does it feel so good to have him on top of me? I don't want it to, not now, but I feel heat surge between my legs as he pushes against me, holding me down. So I struggle, try to get free of him, and wonder if he can tell that my heart's not in it. "No." I force the word out, through my clenched teeth. " **YOU** say it!"  
  
 _For a moment, I just lay there, my hands gripping her wrists. I'm so angry, but at the same time, I look into her eyes and I can't help but love her. That's why I was so jealous. That's why I didn't want to talk to her._

_"I want you," I say quietly, and all the fight has gone out of me._  
  
I stare up at him, open-mouthed and blinking, and I forget to struggle, I'm so surprised. I never thought he'd give in so quickly. And I see, finally, how much I'd hurt him. It's in his eyes. **_But why didn't you just tell me?_** I think. **_Why did you try to hurt me instead of just . . . talking to me?_** I love him so much, but I'm still hurt, too—that he didn't trust me. I'm not ready to surrender yet, not quite.

I bring my leg up between his—carefully but firmly—and press gently against his balls. "Tell me how much." I keep staring at him, daring him to refuse me.  
  
 _One wrong move and she's got me, literally, by the balls. Does she feel that I'm already hard? That being this close to her, I'm helpless? What can I do? I look away and clench my jaw. "Don't," I say._  
  
"Don't what?" I whisper. I feel him getting hard against my belly, and suddenly, I want him so badly . . . But I bring my leg up a little higher, wrap it around his, nudge up against his balls a little more. "Don't do this?" Then I pull myself out of his grip and, before he can stop me, I take his face in my hands, and kiss him, so hard that my teeth scrape against his.  
  
 _I can't help myself. I start to grind against her, needing the contact, needing to feel her. We've never kissed like this before. It's hot and almost painful, and wonderful at the same time. I press her against the floor, only now instead of pinning her wrists, I'm clasping her hands._  
  
I've never felt like this before, kissing him—fierce and wild and starving for the taste of him. I curl my fingers around his, no longer struggling to get away; I crave him, as he rubs himself hard against me. Did it take this, his jealousy, for us to realize how much we mean to each other? If he needs this, if he needs to take me to be sure I belong to him . . . I need it just as much.

I wrap my legs around him quickly then and squeeze, pushing him even harder into me. I pull away from his mouth, gasping, then lift my head, and whisper, "I want you, too," and then catch his lower lip between my teeth.  
  
 _"Do you want me now?" I ask, pushing away from her but still holding her hands. "Do you want me to fuck you?"_  
  
I gasp softly, my eyes wide, but that heat between my legs is shooting up into my belly, and suddenly I'm not sure I can breathe, let alone answer him. Fighting to get my hands free, I hiss at him, "Yes. . . ."  
  
 _Without another word, I sit back on my haunches and strip off my jumper. Then I dip down and kiss her again, only this time I don't pin her. I want her hands free to do as they please._  
  
As soon as he lets go of my hands, I bring them up and start raking my fingers down his chest, all the way down to his belt, digging my fingernails in a bit, hoping I'll leave marks. He's kissing me so hard my lips feel bruised, but I kiss him back just as hard, not willing to admit it hurts, almost enjoying it. . . .  
  
 _I want to slow down, but I can't. Her fingernails on my chest only increase my arousal. I move my lips to her neck and start kissing and sucking, burying my face in the crook of her neck._  
  
He's going for my neck; a small voice in the back of my mind says, **_if he leaves a mark there . . ._** but I realize, I don't care. I bite his shoulder, as hard as I can, while I try to work my shirt open and off.  
  
 _I can feel her trying to undo the buttons on her top, so I try to help. I want to feel her breasts against my bare skin. I want to taste them._  
  
His fingers and mine go for the same button at once, and a second later, there's a _*_ _pop*_ and the button goes flying. I look up at him, my breathing faster and shallower because his hand is now resting on my breast. "Oh, you'll pay for that," I whisper. "Maybe I won't let you fuck me right now. Maybe I'll make you wait." But I know **HE** knows I don't mean it; I'm down to the last button on my blouse already.  
  
 _"Oh, yeah?" I say. I push her hand away and flick the button off her top. I don't care—I'll give her one of mine. After we've fucked. Now her top is open and I can see her breasts encased in her bra. They swell with every breath she takes and all I want to do is suck on them. I dip down and start kissing my way down her neck to her collarbone. Then I stop and raise my head. "Take it off," I command._  
  
My first instinct is to tell him where he can put his command. But . . . again, my body betrays me. I know he can see the flush in my cheeks, he can hear me panting, he can probably even feel the warmth between my legs, he's shoved up that tight against me. So, I reach underneath and wrestle with the clasp, staring defiantly into his eyes the whole time. Finally it comes apart, I shove the straps down my arms, and toss the bra aside.  
  
 _I almost come right then—she's so beautiful, so sexy, lying there half-naked, with her hair spread out around her face and her breasts so full and firm. I bend down and start kissing and licking first one breast and then the other. And then I take one of her large, round nipples in my mouth and suck gently._  
  
Any thought I had of even **_pretending_** to resist him disappears. I can't stop myself; I moan, halfway to an orgasm already, and arch my back, offer myself to him instinctively. I love the feel of his mouth on my skin, and he knows it. As he sucks and licks at my breast, I run my hands up his throat and around to the back of his head, urging him on and tugging, hard, on his hair.  
  
 _She's feeling feisty tonight, so I nip lightly at her flesh. I could do this all night, but I have my needs, too. I need to be inside her, to feel her move against me. My cock is so hard it hurts. I start to reach between our bodies, between her legs, and I can feel that she's already wet._  
  
His hand slides down my body and between my legs. He wants to know if I'm as ready as he is. And I am—but I like this game we're playing, too. I think I should make him . . . work for it, just a little.

I clamp my thighs around his hand, holding him there, so close to what he needs, and smile up at him. "Admit you were wrong."  
  
 _"No, I won't," I say stubbornly, even though she's probably right. I love the strength of her thighs—there's so much power there. I squeeze just a little, just enough to let her know I'm perfectly aware of her needs._  
  
I can't help it; it's a small whimper, but it tells him how good his hand feels there. I'm as much at his mercy as he is mine. But I won't give in. I try to wriggle out from under him, pressing my thighs even tighter together, so he can't go any further. "I—wasn't—flirting—with—him," I grate out between clenched teeth. "Admit it!"  
  
 _I almost pull away then. She doesn't realize how much it hurt to see her talking to that stupid git. "You **were** flirting," I say flatly, "but I was wrong to be angry at you." Game over. She's won, and she knows it._  
  
How can he be so stubborn? I want to shake him, but even more, I want him to believe me. I pull him down so I can kiss him, hard, and then I make him look at me. "I want you. I **_need_** you, so badly my stomach aches. No one else makes me feel the way you do, or ever has. Why won't you trust me?" Before he can answer—or pull away—I wrap my legs around him again, and then slip my arms round his shoulders, pulling him close and holding him to me as tight as I can. "I only want you," I whisper in his ear.  
  
 _I was so angry, furious, all this time, but now, I want to melt into her arms. Her breath on my skin tingles. Her lips near my ear make me even harder. My cock is pressed against her, and it longs to be inside her. "I want you so badly. I-I'm sorry," I whisper back. "I'm sorry I hurt you."_  
  
"Oh, baby . . ." I can't stand to hear the sadness in his voice. "I'm sorry, too." I stroke my fingers through his hair, murmur in his ear. "I didn't realise. . . ." I lay a string of kisses along his chin, and now I know there's only one thing I can do.

I let go of him, reluctantly, so that I can slip my hand down between us and undo the buttons on my jeans. Then I take his hand and guide it, inside my knickers, till his fingers can touch me and he can feel just how wet I am, how I'm needing him there. "Take me," I say, looking into his eyes. "As hard as you need to, to know that I belong to you."  
  
 _I touch her soft spot, now slick with her desire. She's so hot and wet, I know that she wants me as much as I want her. "I don't want you to think I own you. I don't. You're free to choose, you know. You don't have to be with me if you don't want to."_  
  
"Do you really think I'd be here if I didn't want to be?" I say, amazed that he could doubt that. "No, you don't own me. But I can give myself to you—that's **_MY_** choice." I sigh softly, afraid he still doesn't trust me. "I just want you to know there's no one between us. It's just you and me here, baby." I reach up to stroke his cheek. "And I want you, as much as I hope you want me." I slide my hand down his body and curve it around his cock . . . it's so hard, it takes my breath away. "I want you. . . ." The words come out in a sigh.  
  
 _I start to speak, but I have no words. I can only show her how much I want her, need her. I pop open the buttons on my fly and place her hand inside my pants. We're joined this way now, each experiencing the other's desire._  
  
I feel my stomach clench; the heat of his erection almost burns my hand and his touch . . . his touch makes me **_so_** wet. Slowly, carefully, I stroke his cock, never taking my eyes off his. "You feel so good," I whisper. "Please . . . don't make me wait. . . ."  
  
 _I shove my jeans and pants down, so hungry for her. I kiss her then, hard. I want her to know what she does to me. I move against her hand, but then I push it away. My hand is still in that warm place between her legs, but now I take it away. I start to tug at her jeans. They're tight, so I'm having trouble getting them off. This excites me even more—knowing how close I am but having to work for it._  
  
I watch him as he struggles to get my jeans down, but I will not help him. I lift my bottom up while I run my hands over his shoulders and murmur encouragement, that's all. The look on his face as he undresses me ties my stomach into knots, and I want to keep on watching him. Almost as much as I want to feel him push, hard and deep, into my body.  
  
 _It's taking a lot of effort, and she's doing nothing to help—I'll make her pay for that, I will. Maybe I'll make her wait. At last the jeans and knickers are around her ankles, so I fling off her shoes and get the garments off, and now she's lying there, in her all naked beauty. I gaze up at her, then begin to kiss her ferociously up each leg, alternating as I go._  
  
Oh . . . he knows this drives me wild, he does. His lips on the inside of my thighs . . . because it's clear what he has in mind. And he knows what that will do to me. I will be at his mercy if he. . . .

" _ **Please** ,_" I whisper.  
  
 _"Please what?" I ask, lifting my head. I want her to work for it._  
  
Oh, so it's going to be like that. He wants me to say it; I won't give him what he wants . . . yet. "You know," I tell him, ruffling his hair with my fingertips, "what I want. How **_much_** I love it."  
  
 _My face is so close to her sweet spot I can smell how much she wants me. But I still tease her. "How much you love what?"_  
  
His warm breath flickers over my skin as he speaks, teasing me as much as his words do. I feel the heat of it on that little nub, tucked inside my cleft, that's throbbing, begging for his touch . . . and I must beg, too. I won't, can't keep either of us waiting anymore.

"Please . . . put your mouth on me." I close my eyes and breathe the words, still running my fingers through his hair, urging him closer as I open my legs wider to him. . . . "Lick me, suck me, don't stop even when I scream."  
  
 _It would be too cruel to draw this out any longer, and I don't want to. I do want to hear her scream. To hear her moan her pleasure. To know that **I** caused such pleasure. In seconds my mouth is on her, and my tongue flicks out at her cleft, so musky and wet. I hold her legs up so I can go deeper, swiping at her and sucking, listening for all of her wonderful sounds._  
  
I gasp the moment his tongue begins to caress me—at first gentle, and then demanding. It's too intense, and I can't help it—I start to shake. Clutching at his shoulders, I call out his name, over and over, until I can't speak anymore, all I can do is whimper and cry out and writhe under the relentless pleasure he's giving me.  
  
 _I grip her thighs when she starts to tremble. I revel in the power I have over her now, and I'm equally as excited over her pleasure. But then I stop. I don't want her to come yet. I want to be inside her when she screams. I want to hear her cry **my** name. So I climb on top of her and I shove my jeans down farther, and I lift her legs and wrap them around my waist. I can still taste her as I thrust inside her, deep and hard._  
  
"No!" When he takes his mouth away, I cry out in disappointment. I don't care about the game we've been playing, or that I've "lost." I **_want_** him to know how much I need him. I want him to believe he's the only one. "Baby, please—"

But before I can really protest, before I can even catch my breath, he's on top of me and inside me, and the suddenness of it, the force of him as he pushes into my body . . . I've never felt this aroused before, this hungry for him. I tighten my legs around his waist, moaning as I start to move in rhythm with each thrust, and then I pull him in close and breathe the word in his ear.

"Harder."  
  
 _I almost come right then—I can tell she wants me as much as I want her. But I control myself because I want to give **her** pleasure. So I bury my face in the crook of her neck and pound into her, and the force of it makes me grunt against her skin._  
  
His warm breath and the noises he's making against my neck . . . I shiver again from head to toe, and I know I'm going to come any minute, but I don't want to, not yet. I want this to last . . . I push my hips against him, trying to match every thrust with force of my own, but I can barely think, I'm so close. I cry out his name, over and over again, as he drives himself deeper into me, and dig my fingernails into his back and just hang on. . . .  
  
 _I wince, but I don't mind. I like when she does this, when she lets loose and doesn't think about what she's doing. It's so primal, so . . . sexy. I thrust faster and faster, and I feel as though I'm going to explode any minute, and then, finally, I do, and I try not to cry out but I can't help it. She feels so amazing._  
  
He feels so incredible, shuddering and bucking against me as he comes. I cling to him as he spends himself inside me, and then my release sweeps over me, wave after wave of a bliss that echoes his. I feel weak, after what we've done, and I don't want to cry, but he's left me in this state, almost dazed from the sheer force of his desire, and I can't hold back, I have to. . . .

And in the midst of my tears, shattered and amazed by him, I wrap my arms around his body, draw him in close, and before I can think about it or stop myself, I whisper, "I love you."  
  
 _Did I hear correctly? Or have I gone momentarily mad as I tremble against her? No, she said it. She really said it. I lift my head and smooth her damp hair from her face, and I study her eyes. They're glistening with the truth of what she said. "I love you, too," I whisper back, all of the anger I'd felt previously washed away. I don't want to hurt her. I just want to love her._  
  
I can tell by the way he searches my eyes—he never **_wanted_** to believe there was someone else I might care for more than him. And what I see in his eyes makes me tremble as much as anything we've shared flesh to flesh. "We're okay, baby," I murmur, and then I lift myself up to kiss him—gently now—on the lips, cherishing the sweet tenderness of this moment as much as I craved our rough passion.


End file.
